Please forgive me for waiting so long to make a new post in here. Even though the semester ended, life is still happening. I'm in a weird place right now, let me tell you...or not. I'm not the kind to air out dirty laundry, so all I'll say is that I have things to think about and a decision to make in the coming days/weeks.
Anyway, I promised you a poem to apologize with. This is from a new collection of work I made this semester, collectively titled All of My Heroes Are Dead: And Other Amusing Anecdotes. The idea for the collection came about in creating a potential title page for our final chapbooks for Adv. Poetry Writing. I was digging through various archived photographs on my flash drive, mainly selecting photos of individuals who have had a huge impact and influence on my life, when I made the observation that all of the people I had selected to that point were deceased. Possessing an "advanced" (code for "fucked up") sense of humor, I found it profoundly amusing (if not just a little depressing), so that is the title and theme I struck in creating what would become my final chapbook for the course, as well as my most recent collection of poetry.
The poem I have selected to share is a poem written in tribute to Bruce Lee, of whom I am a huge fan. :) I hope you enjoy it. I've resized the font in hopes that the formatting doesn't wind up too mangled by the tight dimensions of my blog's setup.
No Way As Way, No Limitation As Limitation
You taught me to understand
rather than immediately judge,
urged me not to blindly follow the crowd
and accept their approach.
Nor did you endorse my involvement
in the manipulating game of role creation.
You showed me that self-knowledge breeds transcendence
and that life is best to be lived, not conceptualized.
You stressed formlessness, shapelessness,
to be water. That I haven’t mastered yet, but
you weren’t in this world to live up to my expectations;
likewise, I’m not here to live up to all of yours.
I haven’t fully copied your successful personality as my own,
but adapted what parts of it I could use for my own self-discovery
and disregarded what I couldn’t.
I empty my cup every day so it may be filled
and remain devoid in hopes of totality.
Thanks to you, I fear low aim instead of failure,
I’ve taken things as they are,
punched when I’ve needed to punch, kicked when I’ve needed to kick,
been not for or against or paid any mind to who is right or wrong.
I am ready, not tense,
not dreaming, but not thinking,
flexible, not set,
liberated from the uneasy sense of confinement,
wholly and quietly alive, aware and alert,
ready for whatever may come.